Frell
by Maygin
Summary: Dean recognizes something still isn’t right with his brother after being possessed. TagMissing Scene to BUABS. Assumes Sam's memories of time being possessed are messy and not quite right.


**Frell **

**By: Maygin **

Summary: Dean recognizes something still isn't right with his brother after being possessed. Tag to BUABS.

_The Blah-blah Section_: Well this story is a tag to BUABS with obvious spoilers for it – just a fair warning. Because I'm a sadistic, angst-sucking female who didn't get enough fallout at the end. Wrote this after the LimpSam viewing of BUABS. I'm also construing the end scene where Sam admits to almost cutting up Jo. This story assumes Sam's memories of his time with the demon are a little messy and not quite accurate. And once again – I don't know what inspired this… it just kinda fell onto the keyboard. Completely un-edited and un-beta'd – sorry. Hope someone enjoys it :)

**Frell **

Sam Winchester strolled out of their latest motel bathroom with one towel wrapped around his waist and one in hand. He dropped his muddy jeans and t-shirt next to his duffle bag and then started rubbing the towel in his hand vigorously through the soaked locks dripping down his scalp. "Hey Dean," he called behind him as he started picking through his clean clothes for something to sleep in.

"Mm," came a distracted response.

Sam glanced behind him to see his brother currently stretched out on his bed against the headboard with his feet crossed watching tv. He turned back to his bag and continued to route through it. "Have you seen my U2 t-shirt?"

Dean chanced a quick glance at his younger sibling still crouched on the floor in the opposite corner of the room, before re-focusing his attention on the screen. "Threw it out; had blood on it remember?"

The younger man seemed to contemplate that a moment before renewing his search for a different shirt. "Oh yeah."

Dean pursed his lips and then shifted lower on the bed, stuffing another pillow behind his head. A loud scream followed by metallic clanging noises filled the small room. Sam smirked and gave up his search; picking up the pair of night pants he'd set aside and walked toward his bed, looking at what had his brother so engrossed.

"What are you watching?" He pulled his sleep pants on.

Dean gave a disinterested shrug without breaking his lazy focus on the dramatized chaos. "Only get one channel."

Sam sat with one leg on and one leg off his bed; rubbing at his hair with the bleached towel and letting his attention be sucked into the television set. "We get one channel and it's the Sci-Fi channel?"

"Yep."

Sam snorted. "Kind of ironic."

"Mm-hm."

Sam gave one last sweep over his head with the towel, setting the long locks at odd, wet angles and curves before shifting further onto the bed, mirroring his brother's position. It only took a few seconds for him to fall into the lazy warmth and comfort their small room offered along with their riveting entertainment.

"What's with the t-shirt?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked distractedly; now fully engrossed in the show himself.

Dean threw a quick glance to the side; scoping out the Samuel territory of expression. "This is like the third time you've asked me for the stupid thing."

Sam tore his attention away from the tv set for a moment to redirect it to what was obviously something of importance or at least moderate interest to be discussing to his older sibling. He had to spend an extra second to actually recall what it was his brother had said in between some playful banter between the shows main heroes. "Oh…" he said finally with a small frown marring his forehead beneath a sheath of damp bangs. The sudden reminder had him rubbing at them again with the towel following a shrug. "I just forgot… sorry." He turned back in time to see the blond heroine pick a fight with a female metal-head. He snorted mentally; she reminded him of his brother.

"Three times?" Dean half questioned, half stated, also turning to look at the chick fight that was about to break out. He liked the blond; she reminded him of… him.

Sam annoyingly tore his attention away again. "What?"

"What?"

"Dude…" Sam held up a questioning hand. "What is your deal?"

"Nothing," Dean's gaze didn't leave the television, "just… thinkin maybe you have Alzheimer's is all."

"I don't have Alzheimer's," Sam said with hefty amount of brotherly longsuffering.

"Then what's your problem?"

Sam gazed incredulously at the other man. "I don't have a problem. You're the one that keeps buggin me about the damn t-shirt."

"Actually you're the one that keeps buggin _me_ about the damn t-shirt."

Sam threw up surrendering hands and shook his head. "You know what… fine. I'm sorry – it won't happen again." He tossed the damp towel toward the bathroom door and then yanked his covers back, sliding underneath their protective sheath onto his side… away from his brother and the tv.

Dean eyed the younger man a moment more before he gave a small disappointing shake of his head and lifted the remote, pushing the power button.

"You can leave it on if you want… it won't bother me." Sam's tired voice filled the empty silence that followed Dean's decision.

"Sam," Dean said quietly; knowingly.

"It won't."

Dean swallowed down a sigh. "You gotta talk about it dude."

Sam shifted beneath his covers, bunching them in a fist near his chest. "What are you talking about?" It may have sounded like a question but it clearly translated as _leave me alone_.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Look, I'm sorry I keep asking you about the stupid shirt alright?" Sam's voice was weary. "It was an honest mistake."

"Uh-huh; which time?"

Sam ignored him, pulling the bed-sheet tighter around his shoulder.

"Sam?" Dean sighed when he still received no response. He let his eyes trace the water-stained patterns along the ceiling. "Was it from Jessica," he asked quietly; turning his head to gage the younger man's response. Sam seemed to stop breathing for moment, his back stilling, before shifting beneath the covers… again trying to pull them tighter. Dean turned back toward the ceiling, throwing his thoughts at the stained ridges and bumps, hoping to form some kind of magical conclusion. "I guess what I don't get…" he held up a clueless hand, "is why you let me toss it. I mean…" he ran the hand over his face and then over his hair, "if it was such a big deal, why didn't you say something?"

Dean turned his gaze to the other bed hoping for some kind of response. "I've never even seen you wear it before," he said as he pulled his own bed cover over his weary frame, up to his chest.

"I haven't… since… you know," Sam's quiet words seemed to lose themselves in the empty air around them.

"And Meg knew that," Dean confirmed. "What a bitch," he drawled shaking his head. He waited a few more moments of silent breathing before asking what had been burning at the forefront of his mind for the past two weeks. "There's more isn't there?" If he hadn't known any better, he would've sworn he'd just psychically heard his little brother swallow.

"What do you mean?"

"That happened… before I showed up?" Silence answered him; and oddly enough, it told him more than words probably ever could. "You're remembering more."

Sam stared at the wall next to his bed, following a brown line that curled and wove across the wallpaper; seeing instead a deep canyon path that he could hide in and follow until he dropped off the edge of the pattern into nothingness. "I don't…no," he gave a small shake of his head.

"Sam," Dean quietly admonished; making sure to use the shortened version and not _Sammy_… he wanted his brother to feel like a grown up equal that could talk to him, not a five year old that needed to bawl their eyes out. "There looked like a lot more blood on your shirt than from the one guy."

"He had a name," Sam quietly responded somewhat bitterly. He understood why Dean hadn't said it, but it almost made him more angry to just toss aside the hunter's life like he hadn't existed… like he hadn't killed a lot of bad things and saved a lot of lives. The guy had friends and family… _she_ had friends and family.

"Okay," Dean conceded. "What else?"

"What?"

"What else do you remember?"

Sam shifted slightly, his shoulder falling back toward his brother. "Why are you making me talk about this?"

"Because it's obviously eating at you."

Sam snorted bitterly, "You can't tell me I'm the only one."

Dean frowned in confusion. "What are you talkin about?"

"I know how you felt about her Dean… if anyone needs to be talking about it it's you."

Dean blinked owlishly; completely at a loss for words… for thoughts for that matter. "Tell me you're not talking about Meg and I won't have to kill you."

"Meg – what?" Sam turned fully onto his back to face his brother. "Jo- Dean"

"Jo, what-" Dean sputtered at a complete loss, he finally just held his hands up, questioning what his voice would not.

"Come on Dean," Sam said with quiet sadness, "You liked her."

"Yeah, like in an annoying little sister type way – what does that have to do with anything?"

"Even still, how can you just forget her? Ignore it never happened?"

"Ignore _what_ happened?!" Dean asked angrily; he hated feeling like he was one step behind; and right now he felt like he was fifty steps behind.

"Dean…" Sam sounded distraught and looked the part too as his head turned, wet bangs falling across his forehead.

"Dude, I have no idea wha-" Dean broke off suddenly as his brain suddenly caught up, his forehead smoothing out, his eyes widening slightly and his mouth curving into a circle. "Oh," he said intelligently. He shifted a little higher on his pillow for a moment, his mouth, eyebrows and head tilting, all vying for lead. He finally just cleared his throat and shook his head apologetically. "She didn't say anything. Sorry dude, I didn't know."

"What?" Now it was Sam's turn to sound confused.

"She didn't tell me that you… you know," he waved his hand about in the air as if it explained everything. He dropped his hand lamely finally and pushed himself to a sitting position. "But Sam… she doesn't blame you alright? She's a hunter, she knows how the game goes-"

"Yeah?" Sam sat up himself, looking contrite. "Try explaining that one to Ellen."

Dean's shoulders dropped slightly. "Sam," he said firmly, "You were possessed, there's nothing you could've done to stop it. It happened alright?" Dean measured his brother's reaction; which currently looked a mixture between pissed and ill. "I'm sorry you had to go through that… but to be honest… it could've been a lot worse dude."

Sam stilled. His liquid eyes darkening and wide as he stared at his brother through a mask of barely confined fear. Fear for his brother. He constantly feared the day his brother lost sight of humanity; became so involved in the darkness surrounding them that he forgot what the light looked like; forgot what he was fighting for. "How could it have been worse Dean?" he asked quietly, almost scared to hear the answer.

Dean held his hands up in frustration; why did it always seem to take a century and a half for his brother to connect the dots on anything that got in the way of his guilt? "You could've killed her for one," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sam blinked. He had to remind himself that breathing was essential and then he blinked again. "We're still talking about Joe right?" he asked timidly.

Dean sagged, rolling his eyes. "Well I don't know Sam, how many other chicks did you bang while possessed?"

Sam's face screwed up, "What?"

"What?" Dean mirrored him only with more frustration. He was tired, it'd been a long week and he had no more brain cells to spare for their circular conversation.

"I didn't - …you thought I…" Sam shifted on the bed, pushing to the edge so his legs hung off and he faced his brother, clearly agitated. "_Why_ would you think that?"

Dean's forehead smoothed out slightly as he realized he might've jumped the gun in his assumptions. He too pushed himself, albeit a bit more slowly, to the edge of his bed, facing his brother a bit warily. "Well- you said…" he floundered for words.

"I didn't rape her Dean!" Sam yelled, cutting his brother off and looking extremely pissed. He'd been trying to avoid this conversation since Dean had saved him from a life of possession; and now he wished he'd tried harder. He felt like he had three different partially deaf translators standing between himself and his brother; nothing was coherent. He was beginning to wonder if perhaps Meg had messed with his head somehow; maybe scrambled his brain a little and now nothing anyone said made sense. In which case meant nothing he said probably came out right either. It was an ill feeling, not knowing if perhaps you were mentally scarred… because how would you know? And with the way his brother was looking at him, he was beginning to wonder if maybe it was true.

Dean, for his part was beside himself. "Well then _what_ Sam? I have no idea what it is we've been talking about the last five minutes so why don't you just give me a friggin clue?!"

"_Kill_, Dean…" Sam pointed earnestly to himself, "I _killed_ her."

"Who?"

"What do you mean who?" Sam asked incredulously before answering himself, "Joe!"

"What?!" Dean's face was screwed up and he was half tempted to start looking for hidden cameras. "No you didn't."

Sam looked sadly at his brother; he couldn't believe Dean had reached such a level of denial. "Dean-"

"Sam," Dean cut him off firmly and then shook his head with a small humorless laugh, "I just talked to her this morning dude… why…" he paused as a sudden thought occurred to him. His head tilted back slightly as he carefully watched his younger sibling. "Is that what you've been thinking this whole time?" He leaned forward trying to catch Sam's eyes as the younger man bowed his head, obviously thoroughly confused now and not wanting to reveal just how much this was all freaking him out. "Sam?... did you think you killed Joe?" His brother mumbled something in response, his head still ducked and his fingers tightly entwined. "What?"

"I don't know," Sam said a bit louder as he raised his head slightly, still not looking his brother in the eye.

"You don't know?"

"I just… everything's-… confusing right now I-… nothing's in the right order… I-" Sam stuttered, his hands floundering around nervously; running through his damp hair.

"What do you think happened?" Dean asked gently, leaning forward again, trying to catch the younger man's eye.

Sam took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves; maybe it was all a lie… but then again if that were true, then what exactly could he believe? "I was at the uh," he licked his lips, his eyes scanning the sheets the hung off his brother's bed, "the bar… um… I- I had Joe tied up to the," he took another deep breath and rolled his eyes up above his brother's head, "the post… with a knife to her throat."

"Yeah," Dean said softly when Sam didn't continue, "I remember that part."

Sam's eyes dropped to Dean's and then with a small nod he continued. "You came in and…" he shook his head, shifting on the bed, "you wouldn't shoot me… so I cut her throat." He finished matter of factly, dropping his gaze to his lap and sagging slightly in defeat.

Dean watched him for a moment before drawing in a deep breath and letting it out loudly. "Well for starters, it was Meg… not you." He tried not to let another flare of anger escape when his brother didn't readily agree with him. "And secondly… you didn't kill Joe, Sam."

Sam didn't look at him; he just sat still, trying to keep his breathing steady and almost not daring to believe though he desperately wanted to. "Are you sure?" his voice was small and trembled.

"Yeah, Sam."

Sam looked up; meeting his brother's concerned eyes with a no-nonsense expression set firmly in place. "How sure?"

Dean watched him for a moment before reaching to his left and picking up his cell phone. He did a quick scroll, pressed the dial button, and then held it up between them. Sam stared at the phone a moment before his hand slowly and warily raised to accept it from his brother's grasp. He hesitantly brought the phone close to his ear. It rang four times before it clicked and he heard a female voice fill the void.

"_Hello_?"

Sam's forehead smoothed out and his other hand came up suddenly, covering his mouth as his eyes pooled with tears. He tried to control his breathing but knew he was having little success as his eyebrows came together and heavy, unsteady breaths sounded loudly from behind his hand.

"_Dean? Is that you_?"

The phone slipped from Sam's hand and dropped to the floor with a clatter. Sam didn't even notice though as he leaned forward onto his elbows on his knees, hiding his face in his hands as a torrent of relief assaulted him. He couldn't stop the flood of tears and sobs that shook his frame.

Dean watched the break down, once more feeling his own sense of frustration with all the ways the Demon's continued to corrupt their lives and make them miserable. He slowly reached down and picked the phone up, bringing it to his ear. "Joe it's me," he said quietly.

"_You okay_?"

"Yeah," he sighed forlornly as he continued to watch the over-exhausted and emotionally abused form before him hidden behind trembling hands. "Sam just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"_Okay_," the girl said uncertainly. "_So… he's okay then_?"

Dean kept his voice low. "Yeah, look I'll call you back later okay? I gotta go." He didn't even bother to wait for a response as he hit the end button and dropped the phone next to him. He shifted on the bed awkwardly before running a tired hand over his face with a deep, heavy-hearted sigh. He was glad his brother didn't have one more worry; one more guilt; one more mental scar to add to his already over-abundance of hard knocks. It wasn't fair. _It just wasn't damn fair_!

He reached forward and rested a hand on his brother's shoulder, pressing hard into knotted muscles he could feel beneath them. "She's okay Sam," he assured quietly, continually massaging the shaking shoulder under his hand, "We're gonna figure this out." He gave his brother's shoulder a gentle shake, watching tears fall to the floor from behind trembling fingers. He let his sibling's harsh sobs and gasps for air fuel his anger and his mission to destroy every last one of the sons of bitches. "I swear to God we'll figure this out," he swore harshly; squeezing his brother's shoulder to give extra emphasis to his solemn promise. They sat like that for a long while; one comforting the other with simple presence and quiet mutterings.

If it's the last thing he did… he was gonna save his brother.

**The End **

(Addendum - I made a totaly sci-fi error and I'm totally and completely embarassed by it because I am so totally not this stupid - Frell is actually from Farscape. I should've called this Frack... not Frell - DOH! I can't BELIEVE I made that mistake! Thanks to Calcium77 for pointing out my idiot mistake)

For anyone whose curious or couldn't figure it out cuz of my sucky descriptions – the show they're watching is Battlestar Galactica – know idea why I used that one – just thought it might be a show Dean would maybe watch. So what do you think? Confusing as all get out? Kinda corny and rushed I know. I just needed a little more of a breakdown and for some reason a bittersweet one came out.)


End file.
